


Revealed

by garglyswoof



Series: Unidentified [1]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Original Character - Freeform, a weird headcanon or two, at least I hope, idek sorry, saving karen fic minus damsel in distress, talk of his family and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garglyswoof/pseuds/garglyswoof
Summary: Frank Castle added Karen Page to the list of those he'll always protect the first time he saw her. When Billy sends a mercenary with an unwelcome threat, Frank takes action.





	Revealed

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't anything huge, but just trying to get all my kastle ficlets in one place, and it was the first time I'd tried writing them so has a special place in my heart.

Motion sensors blared the first warning, but Frank barely glanced up as he loaded a clip into his .357. This was all part of the plan, like so many plans before it, just a little bit fancier with the addition of Micro’s toys. He’d come a long way from the days of listening to police scanners.

In some ways.

Frank punched at a ceiling tile, slinging a sawed-off shotgun up into the cavity before grabbing the edge of the beam and swinging himself up into the ceiling. Hunched over, he picked his way across the metal, grace belying his size. Curtis had always made fun of him practicing yoga, but that shit kept him limber and light on his feet. Power wasn’t all you needed in a fight - stamina, agility, will, focus - those were the things that kept you from getting killed.

Those same things would keep him alive tonight, knowing full well that the trap he’d laid was just as much a trap set for him. Whoever was hunting him wasn’t stupid, and neither were the mercenaries they’d hired.

“Hi honey, I’m home!” a voice called out with an edge of cruel amusement as it rounded the entrance into the latest basement-dweller warehouse Frank had commandeered. He tended to hunt these kinda places out, perhaps as a nod to Micro, perhaps just recognizing the tactical advantage a place like this offered.

Either way, Frank recognized the voice that called out to him now even before he spotted him through the cracks in the ceiling tiles.

“Frankie boy! Let’s talk!” Harkin. Ex-military, of course. Mercenary who earned quite the price for both his high kill rate and low profile. Smart. Twisted. Firmly in Russo’s pocket with a serious point to prove. Frank knew the type - young, cocksure, and ambitious, Harkin saw Frank as a ticket into notoriety. Springs squeaked as Harkin slouched down in a chair at the main console Micro had installed. Frank watched him, his eyes lit by a flourescent bulb that shafted up through the cracks, his body in shadow, coiled and tense. There were no other soldiers. What the hell was going on?

Harkin thudded his boots up on the desk, long legs crossed at the ankle, hands cupped behind his head in a picture of relaxation. Frank’s eyes tracked back and forth, mind whirring, methodical. Harkin wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t let his guard down so utterly without good reason, but Frank also wasn’t stupid, and waited patiently for a reveal he knew had to be coming.

“What would your wife think, Frank? That you have a pretty piece not even a year after she was ripped to shreds in a cloud of bullets? A year since you watched the blood spread across her pretty sundress, clot in your daughter’s hair?” Harkin’s dark eyes scanned the room as he pushed off the desk, the chair sent in a controlled spin. “Can’t have a weakness, Frank. Should know better than to show us where you bleed.”

Frank held back, clenching his jaw. He knew Karen was a mistake, knew it even in the brief moments he’d thought he could be free of this life. But humans are funny like that. Sometimes you craved the mistake. Karen deserved much better than his broken ass, that was for sure. But now she was a liability, a taunt to hang over his head, yet another person he’d failed. Fuck.

He had to hold back, not rise to the bait, shit, convince Harkin that Page wasn’t bait. Had to pretend not to care while figuring out how to keep her safe. He thought of her gun in her purse, bouncing against her side as she walked in those heels and those damned pencil skirts.

Sure, she could take care of herself, but she shouldn’t have to in the first place.

Harkin still spun slowly below, and Frank could see a flicker of doubt in the merc’s eyes now as he combed a hand through his short military-issue buzz cut. A lot of habits died hard. Frank began picking his way across the beams, circling behind the shelves that backed up against the console for coverage.

“You hearing me, Castle? I can at least offer you a soldier’s death. Be better than what we give the reporter.”

Frank felt the thought prick behind his eyes, the idea that this would never, ever end. That the choice he made could never be undone, his enemies and the injustice of it all a hydra spitting new heads up as soon as he could cut one off. And despite this, there lay the truth of it that he lent a final second’s thought to as he dropped down from his perch, spinning Harkin out of the chair with a one-handed blow from the shotgun - away from the computer equipment, Micro wasn’t easy to find these days - and firing point blank.

Harkin had made the mistake of thinking he was needed, that the threat he issued against Karen warranted keeping him alive to pump for information, because that’s what Harkin would do. But Frank already knew what he needed to do, who he needed to kill, what he needed to protect. He left Harkin’s corpse spreading its blood on the concrete, flip phone to his ear, making the same choice he would always make, the truth ringing in him as she answered.

“Frank?” Somehow her voice was nervous and expectant all at once, and something fierce bloomed in his chest as he responded:

“Time to go.”


End file.
